Notes: I'm going to repost these notes at the start, just to make sure that we're all on the same page here and to eliminate any confusion. In this story, Haruka was assigned the female sex at birth, meaning she was born with visible genitalia that caused doctors to declare her sex as female. However, in this story, for reasons that haven't been discussed in their entirety yet, Haruka is passing fulltime as male, meaning she is, with her clothing and appearance, trying to make people believe at first sight that she is a boy. In this story, Haruka's packing, meaning she's wearing a strapon dildo beneath her clothing. There are no flesh and blood penises involved. Michiru's being a bit intuitive, though, and has noticed that Haruka's not super comfortable with certain parts of her anatomy that are traditionally associated with women; she's also figured out that since she's packing, Haruka seems to be embracing the idea of the dildo. Therefore, Michiru is both trying to put Haruka at ease as well as pretty actively into the situation by saying/thinking things like "Haruka's cock," because it's becoming evident that Haruka feels the dildo is an extension of herself.

So there's quite a bit of graphic sexual stuff in here, so be forewarned.

Also, dn't worry-this is not the end of the story. There's at least a part four forthcoming. In the meantime, though, please enjoy!

Composure.

Michiru's been raised on it, and she's good at it.

While she may be, as a whole, a disappointment to her parents, there was no way she could've made it through her childhood without absorbing a few key lessons, the most important-or at least the one she's taken to heart-being that emotions are not meant to be displayed in public.

They're not meant to be displayed, period. This is why she's perfected her icy demeanor, her shield against the ignorance of the rest of her classmates. This is why, when confronted, it's always the other girls leaving in tears after a few choice words from Michiru.

This is why she's managed to survive high school at all.

Yes, she's good at keeping her composure, good at keeping it all together, and she's good enough at it to get this close to convincing herself that this whole thing with Tenoh Haruka is some weird aberration, a strange blip on the already messy enough radar screen that is her high school experience.

Especially after the afternoon she had, Michiru is caught up in a weird conversation hangover of sorts. Thinking back on the things she'd said to Haruka, she's fully aware that it was way too much, way too soon, and she can't stop kicking herself, regardless of how Haruka seemed to have felt about the situation.

She still has the countdown until the last day of school running through her head.

She still has no reason to believe that this is going to change anything. After all, it doesn't particularly matter what Michiru thinks or what Michiru knows: Haruka's still, for all intents and purposes, the most popular guy in school, and Haruka still has legions of girls throwing themselves at her feet every time she so much as blinks in their direction, and thinking logically, it makes no sense for Haruka to want to give that up so close to graduation just because of a few clandestine gropefests with designated school lesbian freak Kaioh Michiru of all people.

Yes, Haruka's charming and, weirdly, not actually a complete ass. And of course, Haruka is gorgeous. And she's not even going to mention how she kind of can't stop thinking about Haruka's cock and how exactly it felt to get Haruka that close to completely unraveling beneath her.

But none of it, in the long run,matters.

She's not going to get to have Haruka, not really. That's not how it works.

By the end of the evening, Michiru's almost convinced herself to let it go. Maybe she and Haruka can still meet up, but it's not going to be anything. It'll be simple.

Casual.

That is, until the next morning.

At the shoe cubbies, Haruka doesn't mess around, doesn't go for anything cute like note-passing. One moment Michiru's stepping into her slippers, and the next Haruka's behind her, growling in her ear, "Baseball field. After school."

Michiru can no more ignore the shiver of desire that runs down her spine than she can stop the satisfied smile from spreading across her face, and it's all she can do to hold firm.

Composure.

After a blurry day of lessons and a completely inadequate attempt at her chores, Michiru makes her way out to the baseball field, where Haruka, it appears, is well past sustaining any sense of decorum. She barely allows time for greetings before all but jumping Michiru.

The steel girders of the baseball field's bleachers dig into her back and Haruka's tongue is in her mouth and Haruka's solid strength is all pushed up against her, and her head's already starting to spin. "We," she says, tearing herself away with considerable effort, "can't do this here. There are people around."

"I don't care," Haruka rasps, leaning in again, but Michiru puts her hand up, shoves her back lightly.

"You should care," she says. "I can't do half of the things I'd like to do to you while we're here in public."

As expected, that catches Haruka's attention. "Where can we go?"

"My house," Michiru says immediately. "My parents are never home, and-" She cuts herself off. Haruka really, really does not need to know anything about her parents. She does know they aren't home, though, at the very least-it's not like them to be home without making a huge fuss about it-and it's a place, if nothing else.

But Haruka, to her credit, doesn't question it. After a harried drive to Michiru's house, even though Michiru can see Haruka ogling, she doesn't comment at all, and Michiru's thankful; mainly just eager to tug her upstairs and get her into her room and have her already.

Inside, it's her turn to push Haruka up against her closed and locked bedroom door, shucking off her blazer and tossing it somewhere and deftly unbuttoning Haruka's shirt. She lingers at the hem of Haruka's undershirt. "Do you want it off?"

She remembers to ask, and she's grateful that she did when Haruka bites her lip. "Not...this time."

And it's a couple of things all rolled up in there, the fact that Haruka's even saying something like 'this time,' as if this is only one in a whole line of times. "Okay," she says, trying to put Haruka at ease, kissing up her jawline, "okay," she says in Haruka's ear. "But have you noticed just how clothed I am right now?"

And that's enough to snap Haruka back, and the next thing she knows she's out of her top and bra and Haruka's mouth is wet and warm on a hardened nipple. She gasps, feels herself getting shaky already. "Don't tease," she says, tugging Haruka over to her bed.

"Thank god," Haruka mumbles, and she's smiling but Michiru's also pretty sure that she's being entirely unironic, as they collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of kicking off the rest of their respective irrelevant clothing.

Haruka lets out a thick groan the instant Michiru so much as brushes against her bare thigh, and the noise sends a shockwave through Michiru's system. Mostly she just feels strikingly awake, like all of her senses have been blocked up for the past 24 hours and now everything's almost too crystal-clear and bright.

She rolls over and slings a leg over Haruka, straddling her on the bed, as she palms the hardness in Haruka's navy blue boxer briefs. Haruka jolts at the touch and stares at Michiru, eyes wide and anguished and imploring, and the sight sends another pulsing, shivery wave of arousal through her system. "I meant it, I'm not going to tease you," she murmurs voice low and drenched in sex. "And I won't waste any more time."

Haruka tugs Michiru down and breathes in her ear, "I could hardly even sleep last night, I was so hard for you."

Michiru barely holds back a whine and grinds herself against Haruka's cock. "Tell me how much you were thinking of me," she says breathlessly. "Did you come thinking about this?"

"No," she says. "I didn't do anything last night. This is all yours."

Michiru's eyes widen at the implication. "You must be frustrated," she says.

Haruka's gaze locks on hers, piercing. "Not saying I didn't do anything," she says. "Just that I wouldn't let myself come."

Michiru bites her lip. "You need to be inside of me. Right now."

Haruka groans, twitches her hips. "Look in the inner pocket," she says, gesturing to where she'd flung her brown leather schoolbag in the haste of undressing.

This action seems to require moving away from Haruka, which is about the last thing Michiru wants to do, but then again, the faster she does it means the faster they'll get to move on to other things.

What she's not expecting is the bottle she finds.

"You carry this around with you?" she asks, amazed.

Haruka coughs. "You don't really seem to be the type to care much about location, so..."

Rolling back over, Michiru tugs at Haruka's boxer briefs, shimmying them off. "It's cute that you didn't expect me to have my own."

She does, too, buried in the second drawer of her nightstand beneath a thick enough layer of books and feminine hygiene products and sheet music to throw off anyone who might feel suddenly moved to investigate her life.

Michiru is pretty sure that she's approximately as wet as a small ocean and could probably take Haruka just fine, but she knows from personal experience and a few long evenings alone in this exact same bed that a little extra won't hurt, so she flicks the cap open. Squeezing a healthy dollop of the lube out onto the top of Haruka's cock, she drags her hand down the entire shaft for an equal coating and, for good measure, reaches down to slip her first two fingers inside herself. She's so wet, just as she thought, and she fights a quick battle to her control herself.

Haruka hisses and falls back against the headboard, eyes locked on Michiru's motions. Michiru can't help but tease, purposefully being sure to push the base up against Haruka with each stroke. "Good?" she asks.

"Mm," is all that Haruka can manage.

"So think about how good it'll feel when you're fucking me," she breathes, "when I'm riding you and you're stretching me open and you're coming inside of me."

"So do it," Haruka growls.

Michiru swipes her sticky hand on the sheets-this bedding is going to have to be washed anyway, why be tidy at this point, when there's an achingly hard, absurdly gorgeous woman sprawled out on the bed, just waiting to be attended to?

"Go slow," she mumbles, despite the way her heart is pounding in her ears.

Haruka holds the base of her cock, eyes locked on the sight as Michiru arranges herself. "Please just do it."

If not for the fact that she's just this side of desperate, Michiru would comment, but she's with Haruka here-she needs Haruka inside of her. The thing is that Haruka's cock is actually pretty big-not that Michiru is at all a world expert on penises, but she was telling the truth about it being bigger than anything else she's ever handled, and she's getting a tiny bit anxious.

So she forces herself to take a couple of deep breaths and guides the first few inches of Haruka's cock inside of her.

It's a stretch, to be sure. She's full, fuller than she's ever been, but as she sinks down there's no actual pain or discomfort. Mainly it just feels right, like this is exactly what she's been needing, like she was meant to have Haruka inside of her.

"Move," she says. There's a little quavery undertone to her voice as she sits back, lets herself get used to the feeling.

Haruka, though, is giving her the most awestruck look. "You feel amazing."

Michiru can't fight back a grin, although she's getting maybe a bit frustrated. She rocks her hips forward, sending Haruka's cock a bit deeper inside of her, and feels her eyes go wide at the sensation. She gasps, "Move, Haruka!"

Haruka bucks her hips up in a shaky rhythm and Michiru does her best to match her, and after a few confused strokes they've gotten it, and Michiru's pulling it off, she's actually riding Haruka.

"Is this what you expected?" she whispers.

Haruka can barely find it in herself to answer in the affirmative-she's already almost incoherent, Michiru realizes with a giddy thrill. As for Michiru, it feels good, but just on this side of mindblowing, and it's more of a maddening tease than anything. She spreads her legs a tiny bit wider, leans forward just a little more, and-

She moans almost involuntarily as a shiver races up her spine, and oh.

So that's it.

That's why everyone raves about this position.

Haruka exhales hard through gritted teeth and whiteknuckles the sheets in her grip, spread eagled on her back, not breaking eye contact with Michiru for a second. "You," she says. "This...this is…"

Michiru places her finger on Haruka's lips to silence her. "I know," she says, feeling the familiar shakiness starting to mount inside of herself, too.

Haruka is so gorgeous like this, caught up in the throes, all beautiful tan skin and sharp jaw and blue eyes, and Michiru just wants to blow Haruka's mind. She wants to make sure that Haruka's coming to the thought of this for weeks, months, long after graduation and whatever else might happen then.

And Michiru's not sure where exactly the words are coming from, but all of a sudden they're there at the tip of her tongue and pouring out of her mouth. She starts slow. "You," she says, testing the waters, "really are the most beautiful boy in school."

Haruka's eyes flash. "Y-yeah?" she stammers, and Michiru takes it as more than enough of an invitation to keep going.

"Yes," she says, "but nobody ever talks about how big your cock is, too."

"Oh," Haruka gulps, and she tentatively rests a hand on Michiru's waist to pull her closer.

Michiru slides her hand over Haruka's. "You're so deep inside me," she whispers. "I bet you put the other boys in school to absolute shame."

She worries for a moment that mentioning other boys may have been a bad move, but Haruka just answers with a shaky groan. "Michiru...don't...don't stop talking…"

Why would she ever stop, she thinks to herself. "I can't wait to come just like this, screaming your name. You're so big inside of me, you're so hard, filling me up like this…"

Haruka's trembling, biting her lower lip. "Michiru, I...I'm going to..."

"You're going to come?" Michiru makes sure she doesn't changing anything she's doing physically as she continues. "So do it," she says. "I want to feel it. I want to feel you come inside me."

"Oh fuck," Haruka gasps, her eyes squeezing shut, and that does it.

She's never, she realizes, actually gotten to watch Haruka come, never gotten the full view, and as Haruka bites her lip and cries out and rides it out, rolling her hips and jerking up, Michiru feels herself get even wetter at the sight.

Haruka's breathing hard, with a few residual twitches, and Michiru slows. "Should I move?" she asks, in case Haruka's the ultra sensitive type. Whichever way Haruka answers, she'll be fine-at this point, it's not going to take long with her hand if need be.

But Haruka shakes her head, casting a bleary blue gaze up at Michiru. "No," she says, "stay. I'm fine. I want…" she swallows hard. "That was...Michiru...I want to feel you come around my cock."

Michiru's wound up and so wet and it's not going to take her long. Haruka's watching her intently, like she still can't believe this is actually happening. "Enjoying the view?"

"More than you know," Haruka breathes.

There's something about Haruka's eyes all over her while she shamelessly fucks herself on Haruka's cock that's almost the final push, and it's only a few more strokes before she's coming.

Michiru's weirdly exhausted; it feels like she's earned her orgasm and now it's all she can do to keep herself upright. She lets herself sink forward, tentative, testing if Haruka will support her. Haruka's hand finds its way to the small of Michiru's back with a warm, firm weight, and Michiru allows herself to collapse, snuggling into Haruka's chest and the softness of her well-worn undershirt.

Despite the exertion of the evening, Haruka still smells nice, like laundry detergent and the faintest underlayer of sweat and a crisp, light cologne that's totally wrong for winter but somehow works for Haruka anyway, because of course it does.

Haruka's the first to speak. "Thank you," she says, breaking the silence

"Don't thank me for having sex with you," Michiru replies, trying to make it a bit lighthearted. "I'm not as cheap as you make me sound."

"Not for that!" Haruka says hastily. "More like thank you...for not being weird. About things."

Ah. So this is what Michiru's imagining it's about. "Again," she says, "you don't have to thank me for being a decent human being."

"It's more than being a decent human being."

"Hm…" Michiru's hand finds its way down between them to Haruka's cock. It's still sticky with lube and come, and that probably shouldn't be turning Michiru on quite as much as it is. "I meant everything I said. It really is lovely, Haruka."

Haruka shivers under Michiru's touch. "Whatever happened to not teasing?"

Michiru rests her forehead against Haruka's. "You don't think this is more fun? And if you don't, I'm sure we could come up with plenty of other things to do…"

"No, it's good," Haruka says, shifting beneath Michiru's touch, starting to get squirmy. "So..." she says, "when do your parents come home?"

Michiru manages not to laugh. "Basically never."

Then the implications hit her.

She answers Haruka's questioning gaze by grinding herself up against Haruka and meeting her lips once more.

The next day at school, Michiru vows to herself that she really, really needs to start getting herself together. She's already been accepted to university and for the most part has everything squared away, but if she keeps underperforming on math tests and zoning out when teachers ask her questions, she's going to cause exactly the kind of concern she strives to avoid.

It's just so hard to keep her eyes off Haruka, though, especially when Haruka looks so good. Especially when, every time she catches her looking, Haruka shoots her this small little smirk that sends Michiru into a whole involved memory spiral of the previous evening that absolutely decimates any sort of concentration.

She wonders if Haruka's having the same problems that she's having.

Haruka's a mediocre student, going by class lists and anecdotal evidence, but mediocre at Mugen would be near the top at an ordinary school like Juuban, so she has no doubt about the sharpness of Haruka's mind. Haruka's okay at math-Michiru watches her get an 81 on the day's test, to back that claim up. She's very good at history, but struggles with the conventions of essay writing in Modern Japanese. Haruka forgets altogether to turn in an essay that they've had a week to complete (and that Michiru's had done for, oh, approximately a week) and gets a spectacular lecture from Oshiro-sensei that even she can't talk her way out of, and it makes Michiru wonder if maybe, just maybe, she might be what's distracting Haruka.

She knows this shouldn't please her, but it does anyway.

The day is progressing along like any other day; Michiru's doodling in the margins of her notes in Social Studies and daydreaming about the next time she can get Haruka beneath her when three dreaded words cut through her consciousness: "Working with partners."

There are certain people out there who are good at things like people. Even on her best days, in an ideal world, that group wouldn't involve Michiru. It's with a deep reluctance that she forces herself back into reality and tunes into Sasaki-sensei's monologue. The important bits stick in her mind: the school's winter festival...third years are in charge of booths...partners have been assigned…

A commotion erupts as the entire class rises to its feet, students crowding to the back of the room, where the partner list is posted. Michiru gets up much more slowly, not particularly eager to see, but as soon as she sees the list, her eye catches on her name, and, subsequently, her group.

Grey, Kaioh, Tenoh, Tsutakawa.

Somehow, Elsa's managed to fight her way through the crowd to Michiru's side. "Hey, we're partners!" Elsa chirps. "With...oh. And...oh!" Elsa gives her an obviously significant wide-eyed look. Michiru's not sure if it's in reference to Tsutakawa or to Haruka-it should be because of them having to work with Tsutakawa, the girl who made Michiru's life a living hell for several weeks back when Michiru's sexuality had become the school's hot topic, but Michiru knows that it's probably due to Haruka and all of Elsa's sordid ponderings about the two of them.

Michiru briefly wonders what Elsa would think if she actually knew just what exactly she and Haruka had been doing the previous night.

Elsa's heart probably would not survive the experience, not to mention anything about Michiru herself.

She can sense that Haruka's trying to get her attention and Tsutakawa's thinking some incredibly unkind thoughts as the group convenes, dragging chairs into a lopsided circle.

"So!" Elsa has apparently deemed herself the best choice to be the group moderator, and Michiru is grateful. "Do we have any ideas?"

She's met with a three-pronged wall of silence. Tsutakawa's sulking and biting at her thumbnail, Haruka's not being subtle at all about looking at Michiru, and Michiru's doing her best to avoid looking back at Haruka.

Elsa laughs. "Come on, guys, you can't make me decide all of this on my own. Unless you want a booth themed around, like, the color pink and calisthenics, which, I don't know, I could live with, but…"

Tsutakawa heaves a massive sigh, like she's put upon just for having to say words. "I have an idea," she says. "We could make a booth about makeup. We could have trials and samples and everything."

"Aw, but wouldn't that be so boring for Tenoh-san?" Elsa says. She nudges Haruka. "Unless you'd be into a series of lectures from three girls about the intricacies of painting one's face." She pauses. "Actually, I can think of worse things for a guy to endure..."

Tsutakawa cuts Elsa off. "Well, of course Tenoh-san would be the muscle to help us build the booth. And besides, I'm sure it would be no problem at all getting girls to come to our booth if he was there!" Tsutakawa stops just short of batting her eyelashes at Haruka, who laughs a bit nervously.

Michiru bites the inside of her cheek. Hard. "We shouldn't do the makeup."

"Oh, really?" Tsutakawa snaps. "What do you have against makeup, Michiru? Are you really-"

Michiru jumps back in before Tsutakawa can go off again-Michiru's more than ready to defend herself if need be, but she's going to have to be working with Tsutakawa and she'd really rather not make this more difficult than it already is. "It's a sanitation issue, Tsutakawa-san. Unless we can procure enough test tools, people aren't going to want to share. Besides, Elsa-san has a point-we'd be alienating half the school."

"Not necessarily, maybe guys would want to know stuff...for their girlfriends..." Tsutakawa trails off, grumbling, well-aware that she's been shot down. "Well, I don't know! I don't hear you suggesting anything better, Kaioh-san. What would you even want to do, some art booth or something?"

Tsutakawa spits the word 'art' like it's a curse, but there's a certain silence dawning on the rest of the group.

"An art booth, huh?" Haruka says slowly, the first time she's really spoken.

"Yeah, hey, I don't know, Michi-chan, that could be fun! What would we do?"

And somehow now all eyes are on Michiru. Elsa's getting excited, bouncing in her seat, and Haruka's giving Michiru this little encouraging smile, and Tsutakawa looks like she wants to punch Michiru in the face.

All in all, it's quite satisfying.

"Yes, an art booth," Michiru says, deciding to run with it. "It could be a dual purpose booth. We could have sections on popular art styles of the past, along with a station of art supplies so people can actually do art."

"That would be so great!" Elsa beams, nearly jumping out of her chair. "Especially now because we're all third years. When was the last time we actually got to do anything fun?"

"We could only use the sorts of art supplies we used when we were younger," Haruka adds. "I haven't gotten a chance to color in years."

"Tenoh Haruka-san, coloring?" Elsa says. "Um, cutest image ever. Yes. Art booth. Let's do it!"

"Wait a minute-" Tsutakawa starts.

"Yes, let's," Haruka says, tearing a sheet of paper out of her notebook to plan. Michiru can't help but reward her with a smile for the support, and Haruka gives it right back, a rather goofy grin that lights up her whole face.

Haruka is such a hot, gorgeous dork; Michiru can hardly stand it.

Elsa plucks the pen and paper from Haruka's hands. "Okay, so jobs!" she says. "We need to build the booth, we need someone to research, and we need someone to get art supplies."

"So probably two people to build and operate the booth," Haruka muses.

There aren't a lot of ways this could end well. Michiru can't work with Tsutakawa, and she probably really shouldn't work with Haruka. She throws Elsa an imploring gaze.

Elsa notices and narrows her eyes, but heaves a heavy sigh. "I think Tsutakawa-san and I should work on the booth," she says.

"Me?!" Tsutakawa exclaims. "Wouldn't that job be better suited to someone who actually knows how to work with tools? Or, someone who could teach me?" She looks over at Haruka again, and Michiru has to struggle to not openly call her out.

"I can totally teach you, Tsutakawa-san!" Elsa says, making a muscle and winking.

"I'll do the research," Michiru says, quickly laying claim to a job that seems to be under no contention.

"So I'm going to get the art supplies?" Haruka asks.

"Perfect. Haruka could charm the crayons out of anyone," Elsa says.

Michiru rolls her eyes so hard she's a bit worried for the welfare of her vision. Haruka, meanwhile, looks very pleased with herself indeed. "I've never heard it put quite like that, Elsa-san."

Elsa grins and playfully smacks Haruka's shoulder. "Oh, I actually surprised the great Tenoh-san? What do I get?"

Haruka raises an eyebrow. "What would you like?"

The sudden rush of anger that flares up in Michiru's chest is entirely unexpected, as well as entirely unjustified.

She doesn't have a claim on Haruka. It's not like Haruka's hers.

But watching Tsutakawa all but throw herself at Haruka, and watching Haruka flirt, even just with Elsa…

She stands up abruptly, sending her chair scooting back with a harsh scrape. Her entire group turns to stare at her.

"You okay, Michi-chan?" Elsa asks.

Michiru studiously avoids Haruka's eyes and makes a mental vow to herself to have a serious discussion with Elsa about using this 'Michi-chan' nonsense in public as soon as possible. "I'm fine. I'm going to go start on the research," she says, and heads for the library.

Michiru has always liked libraries. She can think of absolutely nothing to quarrel with about a building full of books in which talking is prohibited, and as she descends into the cool, abandoned stacks, she can feel her heartbeat starting to even out.

Which is, until she catches a flicker of a maroon blazer one row over.

"Is anyone else with you?" she says.

Haruka pokes her head around the corner. "No, I'm off gathering art supplies, of course." Pause. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Michiru turns herself toward the books directly in front of her. She is, in fact, nowhere near the Arts section.

Then a strong pair of arms wraps around her and a low voice whispers in her ear, "This doesn't look much like art research."

Michiru cranes her neck back the best she can. "Actually," she says, "the art section is right over there."She points in a general direction that may or may not be correct.

"Hm." Haruka's just the right height for her chin to fit perfectly on Michiru's shoulder, and she nuzzles Michiru's neck. "Are you mad at me?"

Michiru shivers, tipping her head back and to the side, allowing Haruka more access. "No," she says, meaning it. After all, there's something unexpected, and promising, and honestly, thrilling about being alone in the stacks with Haruka. "And you? You're in the wrong place to find art supplies."

"I wasn't sure where to go. I thought I'd ask the expert." One of Haruka's hands slides down and gently tugs Michiru's shirt untucked. Fingertips meet bare skin and glide their way up the smoothness of Michiru's abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake before coming to Michiru's bra. Haruka lingers on the thin material, grazing across one of Michiru's nipples just long enough to tease it into hardness, before pinching it suddenly. Michiru jumps at the shock. Haruka's handling her with a certain mastery now, drawing Michiru up against her, with a slight throaty chuckle as she keeps working at Michiru's nipple, rough, just the way she likes it, the way that Haruka knows she likes it.

"You're sure we're alone?" she whispers. Michiru can feel herself losing her grasp on her common sense and she sincerely hopes that Haruka's well aware of what she's doing, because Michiru's traitorous body is starting to force her into the haze of fuzzy arousal that more or less dominates her life now.

"We're alone," Haruka says, nipping at Michiru's earlobe. Her tone takes on a teasing lilt. "Most of the other groups didn't decide to create booths that require research."

As Haruka moves down and grazes her teeth across the tender skin of Michiru's neck, she swallows hard. "Their loss. Don't leave any marks."

"No?" Haruka lathes her tongue down Michiru's neck and punctuates it with a sharp bite to the juncture of Michiru's neck and shoulder.

Michiru tries her best to stifle a moan. "Be careful," she says, but any actual admonishment gets lost in the thick layer of lust coating her words.

Haruka pulls Michiru even closer. "I'm always careful."

Michiru's able to manage a curt laugh. "No, you're not." And as Haruka's other hand moves its way past the waistband of Michiru's skirt, she gives in entirely, securing her grip on the shelf. "And that's all right."

She can hear the smile in Haruka's voice as she says, "You never did strike me as the type who went for boring." Her fingers wander straight down, tracing a delicate pattern against Michiru's clit.

Michiru's whole body spasms. "Yes," she forces out, "and apparently I struck you as the type who went for someone like you."

Haruka dips down and slips one finger inside Michiru easily. "If you could feel how wet you are, you'd know I was right."

Michiru exhales a slow, shaky breath as Haruka adds a second finger, works her way into a rhythm, her thumb brushing against Michiru's clit with every stroke. She whimpers and rests her head against the shelf, old dust swirling around her head. "If you're going to do this, just do it. Don't tease me."

The moment that the sentence finishes leaving Michiru's mouth, Haruka bites brutally at Michiru's neck and grips Michiru's breast hard and Michiru can't help a sharp wrenching cry.

"Shhh," Haruka says, obviously enjoying this way too much, "we're in a library, Michiru."

Michiru bites her lip in abject frustration. "The next time I get you alone..."

Haruka grins. "I came last night thinking about you," she breathes, and Michiru clenches, somehow already close.

She manages to cling to her last vestiges of clarity to grope behind her. She is one hundred percent not surprised to feel that Haruka's wearing her cock, and she gives it a gentle squeeze. "Did you?" She ponders what to say next, then just goes for it. "Thinking about me makes you that hard?"

She feels more than hears Haruka's sharp intake of breath up against her back. "Always, Michiru," she says shakily, "always."

The angle is far from ideal, but Michiru persists, still able to work her way into a nice rhythm on Haruka's cock. "Just like this?" She says, and she was right, the mental image of Haruka sprawled out in bed, cock fisted in her hand, is just as beautiful as she'd figured. "What did you think about?"

Haruka pauses for a moment before she appears to catch herself, reaching down, snatching Michiru's hand away, and pinning it against the bookshelf. She grips it just a little harder than she needs to, and the roughness is working wonders for Michiru as she squirms beneath Haruka's touch. "The first time," Haruka murmurs, "I thought about you on top of me. The second time-"

"Oh," Michiru breathes.

"-I thought about you beneath me. The third time, I thought about being between your legs. And the fourth time, I thought about the next time I would get to have you, just like this."

Michiru shivers. "No wonder you didn't have time to finish your Modern Japanese essay."

"Just because I hate Modern Japanese doesn't mean that you're only an excuse."

"That fourth time. Was this what you were imagining?"

"Not exactly. But maybe I'll make it one for next time."

With that, it feels like Haruka doubles the speed against Michiru's clit and she clutches the shelving with her free hand as her knees nearly buckle, trying to hold back any noises.

And that's when Haruka slaps her hand over Michiru's mouth.

She tries to say something but can't, tries to moan but it's muffled, and Haruka's being so rough and everything about this is so forbidden and she can feel the pressure mounting, the heat rising, and Haruka just keeps going. "Do you know how you look when you come?" she whispers. "You get all shaky and there's this sound you make and you close your eyes, like you can't quite believe it's actually happening to you. I came all over myself thinking about that."

Michiru whimpers.

"And I want to see it again," Haruka murmurs. "I want to see you come like this, right here, right now, against this shelf, where anyone who wanted to walk by could see you-"

It hits her almost out of nowhere, one moment still building and the next coming, coming hard, her whole body shuddering and clenching around Haruka's hand, and she's grateful that Haruka's covering her mouth.

She rides out the last few aftershocks with Haruka working her back down, head spinning, still not entirely sure what just happened.

Haruka pulls her hand out of Michiru's underwear, but leaves it gently cradling Michiru's abdomen. "Not bad?"

Michiru's still trying to catch her breath. "You are incorrigible." There's absolutely no way, though, that she's going to be able to work herself into an actual lather. She's content and warm and still buzzing all over. If she wiggles, she can feel Haruka's hardness pressed up against her and she's just starting to plot how she's going to take care of that, when she gets the sudden sensation that they're not entirely alone. She's about to comment to Haruka when a blithely wandering Elsa Grey turns the corner and spots them.

"Hey, Michi-chan! ...And Haruka-san?" There are questions ALL over Elsa's face and Michiru wonders how the hell they're going to explain this one.

Haruka leans over Michiru quickly and plucks a book off the shelf. "I was helping her grab this," she says, backing away and brandishing the volume in her hand.

It's not the best idea, but out of all the available options there probably could have been worse ones, and Michiru is more thankful than ever that both of their uniforms are only in mild disarray and no real clothing has been lost.

"Is that for our booth?" Elsa asks.

"Yes," Michiru and Haruka say in unison. They exchange glances. Each looks away as soon as eye contact is made.

"Uh-huh," Elsa says, and the problem with Elsa Grey is that not only is she friendly and popular and charming and talented, but she's also smart, and there's no way on earth that she's buying this for a second. "So. Uh, botany? You're taking this booth in an unexpected direction."

Michiru's eyes drift to the title of the book Haruka's holding: The Joy of Saxifrage.

Oh, for god's sake.

"Source material," she says, pulling the excuse out of thin air.

Haruka's nodding along with her. "Right. To draw plants. Because a lot of famous artists drew plants. Like Monet?" She trails off, giving Michiru a look like, Right?

Before they can barrel too far down the obviously ill-advised path of testing Haruka's art history knowledge, Elsa, thankfully, steps in. "Well, hate to break it to you two, but Sensei told me to come tell you that the idea's still good but maybe we should narrow the scope of it more. Make it just art, or just education. What do you think?"

Michiru waits for Haruka to speak, then realizes that Haruka's waiting for her to speak. "I suppose art," she says, seizing onto the excuse to remove themselves from the library as quickly as possible,

"I vote art," Haruka says. "Personally, I like getting to do things." It's not even that much of an innuendo, but Michiru can still see Haruka, out of the corner of her eye, shoot Michiru a look and clear her throat. Michiru facepalms in her mind. It's a wonder how Haruka can have her shoved up a library shelf, giving her an amazing orgasm and whispering an amazing filthy monologue in one moment, and then in the next be such a massive dork.

"Right!" Elsa says, eyebrow raised. "So we're going to be an art booth. I'm going to go report back to Sensei. And Tsutakawa-san. By the way, Haruka-san, it looks like you're doing a really good job finding us art supplies."

That's the last straw to push Haruka over the edge into full-on blushing. "I...didn't know where to find them."

Elsa gives Michiru an almost pitying look. "Did you try...the art supply closet?"

Haruka coughs. "It was locked."

"Huh," Elsa says. "That's definitely a predicament. Wouldn't want to be you, Haruka-san." She gives Michiru the most pointed look in the history of looks. "Okay, well, I'm off. See you guys back in the classroom."

They both listen as Elsa's footsteps pad away, straining their ears until the last of the noise fades.

Only then does Michiru allow herself to relax in the slightest. "Always careful, Tenoh Haruka?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that Sensei would send Elsa-san out to look for us?" She reshelves the book and wraps her arms around Michiru.

Michiru allows herself to sink back into Haruka's embrace, but can't resist pressing it a bit more. "You realize how much damage control I'm going to have to do?"she murmurs, reaching up to tuck a flyaway strand of blonde hair back behind Haruka's ear.

Haruka, for what it's worth, is blatantly unrepentant. "Still complaining, even after that?"

Michiru allows a little sigh, but she's still warm and fuzzy and in no particular mood to really get upset.

Haruka presses a quick kiss to Michiru's temple and straightens. "I suppose I should leave you to your research. I have to go."

"And do what?"

Haruka casts a smirk over her shoulder, adjusting her tie. "Find some art supplies, of course. I can't go back empty-handed to Grey-san and Tsutakawa-san after all that."

A faint smile finds its way onto Michiru's face. Then, once again, reality sets in, and it's only more pervasive in the context of the school and their classmates. It's clear in the way that they both reacted that there's something about what they're doing that they can't do.

Michiru reminds herself to not let herself get in too deep.

Elsa catches Michiru's sleeve while they're cleaning after school, the first potential private opportunity they've had since the library. "We so need to talk," she says.

Michiru gestures down at the rag in Elsa's hand, the tool for her task of wiping down the counters. "We have to clean," she says. "This area's already done, so..." She leaves the last word dangling to give Elsa the opportunity to depart with grace.

But it is, after all, Elsa Grey, who never gives up without a fight. She casually, quickly, kicks over the nearby garbage can, flinging debris all over the floor and the nearby counter. "Oh, oops!" she says. "How clumsy of me."

Michiru's jaw drops. "You will clean that up."

Elsa swipes the rag across the counter, eyes locked on Michiru's. "Of course I will. Looks like there's a lot of stuff for us to clean in this particular corner, huh? Like, a lot. It'll probably take us a while to clean it up. Because there's so much and all."

Michiru clutches the handle of the broom with a death grip, thoroughly annoyed at Elsa's rather ingenious setup. She could just leave, but doing that would only serve to implicate her further. "Fine," she says, forcing herself to keep her tone neutral as she starts to sweep up the mess. "What do you want to talk about?"

Elsa glances around; nobody else is in earshot. "Okay," she whispers, "this doesn't have to be hard, Michiru. You know that I can keep my mouth shut. We've been friends for a long time, and I care about you. So please. Will you just tell me what's going on with you and Haruka-san?"

Michiru swallows hard. "There's nothing to talk about."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Elsa picks up the garbage can and starts swiping off crumbs from the counter. "He sure looked friendly with you in the library for 'nothing.'"

"He was helping me get a book," Michiru says, a bit disgruntled that this excuse is all she has to work with.

Elsa heaves a huge sigh. "Do you actually think I'm an idiot, or are you just hoping that I'm not paying any attention to you?"

"What?" Michiru can't recall the last time she's heard Elsa sound this legitimately upset. Frustrated, sure; every day brings some sort of new crisis. And Elsa's just so enthusiastic about...feeling things, so it's not uncommon for her to have her moments.

But this is Elsa, Elsa Grey, of all people, actually mad, and Michiru knows she needs to tread carefully.

"I just don't understand, okay?" Elsa says. "I mean, I totally understand that you're you and that you're all mysterious and deeper than I could ever hope to be. But if you don't want to talk about it, just say you don't want to talk about it."

It's not that Michiru wants to hurt Elsa, even though she clearly has, but she doesn't have a choice. "There's nothing to talk about," Michiru says faintly.

"I'll remind you," Elsa says, "I've been your friend for years, okay? Even when this whole school turned its back on you, I never did. So you don't want to talk about it? Okay. But when you keep denying ANYTHING going on, you and I both know you're lying to my face, and I just think that maybe after everything that it's a little shitty."

A long silence stretches between them. "What is this even about?" Michiru asks. "Are you jealous?"

Elsa's eyes widen. "Jealous of who? Of Haruka-san? Of you? Don't even pull that on me. You know that I'm the type of girl who'll come out and say something if I see it. But if I DID happen to be doing whatever it is you're doing with Haruka-san, you can also believe that I wouldn't be acting like it's some deep dark secret. You deserve better than that. Hell, he deserves better than that."

"You," Michiru says, low and under her breath, "don't know the first thing about it."

Elsa scoffs and grabs her cleaning rag. "Fine," she says, "if you ever feel like saying anything, I'll be finishing up right over here on the other side of the room. And if you're looking for a conversation starter, a good one might be how exactly you got that mark on your neck."

Michiru's hand flies to a tender spot that's been stinging all day. "On my…"

Elsa gives her a resigned stare before she departs. "Point proven, wouldn't you say?"

It's with the sense that the other shoe is about to drop that Michiru meets Haruka by the baseball field when they're both done with chores.

What Elsa said has been ringing in her head, and it's such a stark contrast to how happy Haruka looks to see her.

The truth is that Haruka does deserve more than this, sneaking around behind the school and in lonely mansions, and it's really not fair. Even if Haruka does like her (and even if Michiru does like Haruka, ridiculously, desperately), it's just...so many layers of foolish to get too attached.

And she'll be fine, she really will. She can keep Haruka's secret with the best of them. They can be friends, if only behind closed doors. Out at school, in public, Michiru can do this. She can do her best to pretend that Haruka's just another boy in school, albeit a beautiful, maddening, arrogant, unexpectedly sweet boy.

But behind closed doors…

After kicking off unnecessary layers, Michiru all but throws Haruka down on her bed and sucks hard at her neck. She's being brutal, but judging from the way that Haruka moans, she doesn't mind much.

"That's for being 'careful,'" she tells Haruka, sitting up and tossing her hair so the soft purple marks on her neck are clearly visible.

Haruka winces. "Sorry," she says, although the almost reverent way she traces her thumb across the bruises tells a different story.

"Are you?" Michiru asks, biting her lip at the slight stinginess as Haruka touches the tender skin.

"Not as much as I should be," Haruka admits, giving her a slightly chastened look.

Instead of continuing, Michiru instead leans down and kisses Haruka, reaching down to tug at her cock. Haruka gulps and Michiru grins. "And that's for the library earlier today."

Haruka's eyelashes flutter as Michiru keeps palming her cock. "But I let you come."

"In the library."

"But..you were so…"

Michiru cuts her off with another deep, lingering kiss, nipping at Haruka's lip as she pulls back just for good measure. "And I didn't get to return the favor." She trails her way down, pushes up Haruka's shirt, trails her lips across Haruka's abs.

Michiru lingers at Haruka's belt buckle, weighing her options. Perhaps she could ride Haruka. Perhaps she could make Haruka eat her out.

Or...

Instead, she takes a third option.

It's the kind of option that Haruka deserves.

She dips her head down and brushes her lips over the bulge in Haruka's pants. In the light, and at the angle, her hardness is plainly evident, and it's gorgeous. She's not exactly sure how to go about this, but if there's anything Kaioh Michiru knows, it's how to fake it until she makes it, and with that, she unzips Haruka's pants.

"What are you doing?" Haruka asks once her pants and boxer briefs are kicked off and it becomes clear that Michiru's not coming back up anytime soon. Her voice is breathless, just the tiniest bit shrill, and Michiru's fairly certain that she'll never get tired of causing that tone in Haruka's voice. She doesn't break eye contact at all as she carefully wraps her hand around the base of Haruka's cock, stroking it slowly. "I could stop if you want," she says, brushing her lips across Haruka's thigh, moving her mouth up, stopping just short, waiting for Haruka's reaction.

Michiru can tell the exact moment when it hits Haruka. "You're going to-!" Haruka blinks, shakes her head, almost like she's trying to clear it, like the vision before her is too much to be true. When she realizes it is, she slumps back against the pillows weakly, staring, biting her lip.

"Can I?" Michiru asks, breath hot against the tip of Haruka's cock. Haruka squirms like she can actually feel it, and for all Michiru knows, maybe she can, on some level.

"Yes," Haruka croaks. "God. Yes, you can, you can-"

It's all the confirmation Michiru needs. With that, she swirls her tongue around the tip of Haruka's cock and takes the first few inches into her mouth.

Haruka makes a little keening noise and twitches, which is enough to make Michiru pause and pull off. Haruka's already stammering out an apology but it doesn't really matter, not really, and Michiru cuts her off. "Don't move. You need to know that this is me doing this to you, not the other way around. Are we clear?"

Haruka nods too fast. "Of course," she says hastily, "I'm sorry, just, could you just-"

Michiru takes Haruka in again, as deep as she can; she's almost down to where her fist is clutching the base of Haruka's cock. Her skills at this, it appears, leave a bit to be desired. She's a tiny bit worried about how she's going to manage it in her mouth.

Then again, Haruka, just judging by her reaction to what Michiru's been able to manage so far, certainly seems like she could excuse quite a bit if it involves having her cock in someone else's mouth, or at least that's what Michiru's hoping.

Michiru regrets not wearing lipstick. She's not entirely positive if Haruka is the type who'd like messing up girls' lipstick, but Michiru knows that she herself is most certainly the type who'd love to see her makeup smeared all over Haruka's cock. The thought sends a small shiver down her spine, and it's a sudden notice of just how much sucking Haruka off is getting to her as well.

Feeling confident again, she tries taking Haruka just a bit further in, when her cock hits the back of Michiru's throat with a sharp tickle.

She coughs involuntarily; she doesn't know it's coming, but the back of her throat is clenching and okay, that's not going to work, fine, enough, but then two things happen at the sound: Haruka moans like she's being tortured, eyes flashing, and a wave of arousal slams into Michiru, dizzyingly hot and urgent.

Well then.

Michiru pulls off and gazes at Haruka, still stroking her cock with the hand wrapped around the base. "Did you like that?" she asks. There's a bit of thick spit lingering at the back of her throat. She swallows hard to get rid of it, then regrets wasting the extra lubrication.

Haruka bites her lip, obviously conflicted. "I don't want to see you hurt," she says finally.

Michiru laughs. "You do in certain ways, don't deny it, Haruka. You want to watch me do this." She takes a deep breath. "You want to watch me choke on how big you are."

Haruka whimpers, a bright flush setting in across her cheekbones. "Michiru…"

Drawing on some reserve she didn't even know she had, Michiru keeps going. "You want deep inside of me, don't you? You want to come down my throat."

Haruka's actually getting a bit shaky now, the combination of Michiru's words and the way she's still stroking Haruka's cock, and Michiru's getting a touch worried that she's going to talk Haruka off before she can even get her mouth back on her. She quickly remedies that situation by dipping her head down and taking as much of Haruka as she can fit in her mouth until it scrapes against the back of her throat, causing her to lurch forward.

The feeling sends a sharp, pulsing wave of arousal down to her cunt, and Michiru presses her thighs together in a way to try and relieve some of the pressure. She wants Haruka like this. She wants Haruka coming down her throat, she wants to choke and gag her way around Haruka's cock because Haruka deserves it. Her mouth is watering and she's sure that this is absolutely an amazing visual.

Michiru's jaw is starting to ache. There's a burning stiffness at the joint that's mounting rapidly into a sharp, piercing sting. It feels like it'll take great effort for her to close her mouth after this and she reaches up, tries to massage at the pain even as she bobs up and down on Haruka's cock. But it doesn't do much as she presses down-just amplifies the sting and forces the tears threatening in her eyes up to the surface.

Her jaw is killing her and her throat is getting raw and there's a monster crick in her neck and it's really pretty miserable, and she's so, so wet. Ridiculously wet, even, much more than she probably has any right to be considering the situation. Her jaw hurts and Haruka's cock keeps scraping the tender skin at the back of her throat and everything feels raw, but then there's Haruka, reeling, making this little stuttery whine with every move Michiru makes, so obviously close to coming apart, already destroyed, utterly brought to her knees, just because of what Michiru's doing.

She doesn't stop, refuses to stop, presses her thighs together again to try and relieve the excruciating throbbing between her legs but it's not enough, not even close to enough, and she's not too far away from just rutting against Haruka's leg, this wild, crackling sensation sparking in the base of her throat and radiating out to make her whole body jittery.

Michiru's head is swimming and there's a fine humming in her ears and she isn't completely present anymore, not really.

Something inside of her is straining, almost broken, some crucial part, some sixth sense or something that keeps her tethered, keeps in her control, almost ready to snap.

She pulls off and nearly collapses at the ache of the absence of Haruka's cock heavy in her mouth. "Look at me," she gasps, a burning raspiness in her throat unlike anything she's ever quite experienced before, like her throat is rebelling against words, against breathing, anything Michiru wants it to do except forcing Haruka's cock further down.

Haruka's attention is back on her, just like she wanted, and her eyes go a bit wide just at the sight of Michiru. She knows she's an utter mess and doesn't particularly care, she just needs Haruka to see her. "You," she growls before Haruka can say anything, "had better look at me," and she's trying to relax her throat, she really is, but she sputters again before she can quite get Haruka all the way down.

And that's when she feels Haruka's hand at the back of her head.

The touch is light and she gets the sense that Haruka's skittish enough about this to move away at the slightest sign of displeasure, but god, this is hot, and oh, Michiru needs this.

She lifts her hand to Haruka's and sinks Haruka's hand down into her hair. Haruka tugs experimentally at the roots before tightening her fingers in Michiru's hair and forcing her head down on her cock.

And that's it.

Haruka's cock slips wildly in her throat and no amount of preparation, of relaxation, can stop her from choking. Her stomach lurches and her eyes water and she can't hold back anymore, and as Haruka moves her down on her cock, gagging her with every thrust up, Michiru closes her eyes, shoves her free hand between her legs, and grinds herself hard against the heel of her palm.

She's touching herself and Haruka's whimpering and oh god, Haruka, all of this is for Haruka and she barely even knows Haruka, really, but look where they are. She's had Haruka inside of her and now Haruka's cock is down her throat and she's already willing to do just about anything for the woman beneath her.

Little dots are flashing before her eyes and her thighs are sticky and she can barely breathe but it's okay. Everything's fuzzy and, the world's slowly zooming in to include nothing but her mouth and her throat and Haruka's cock and it's okay, almost hypnotic, to just let herself be used like this.

One second she's still at it and the next for some reason Haruka pulls out-her mouth feels so empty-and tugs Michiru up and on her back, and then Haruka's climbing on top of her and guiding her cock inside of her in one fluid shove.

On reflex, Michiru's body tries to cry out, but her throat is wrecked, all she can manage is a small gasp. It's a shock, but not at all a question of being ready. She can feel wetness trickling down her thighs; she's taking in Haruka easily, and her stomach twists yearningly at the thought.

Haruka's eyes are darker than Michiru has ever seen them as she begins thrusting, hard, forceful movements that shake Michiru's whole body. "Touch yourself," Haruka commands. Haruka's holding herself up so there's not much in the way to block her, and Michiru can't fight. She's not able, can't even force a lucid thought to her brain, so it's almost a relief to be told what to do.

Her clit is swollen and throbbing and almost too wet, and the mere contact makes the walls of her cunt clench around Haruka's cock. She's going to get off from this, she realizes, and soon. She uses her spare hand to dig her nails into Haruka's back. "Please," she whispers. Haruka bites her lip and somehow manages to go even harder. Michiru's never been able to work up this much force on herself and she's going to be sore, but she doesn't care. "Move, Haruka," she manages.

Haruka forces out a brisk laugh. "When I first met you, I thought you were a good girl. The calm, collected ice princess everyone thinks you are. They're all wrong, aren't they?"

Michiru whimpers. "Yes," she says, barely audible, because Haruka's right, Haruka probably doesn't even know for sure just how right she is, and all of Michiru's walls are starting to crumble and she's never been so exposed.

Haruka can't get close enough. She can't move hard enough. Michiru's face is damp and she realizes that somewhere her eyes finally spilled over. Haruka notices too, her brow furrowed, and looks like she's about to ask, her thrusts slowing. "Michiru-"

"Don't," she gasps, "keep going."

"Are you really sure you-"

Michiru can't. She just can't.

She grabs at Haruka's shoulder, yanks at the hair at the nape of her neck, trying to do anything to snap Haruka out of it, because the last thing Michiru needs is to be taken care of right now. and her voice is quavering and resolute: "Don't stop, don't you dare stop," and by the time that Michiru finally comes she's not thinking anything, not feeling anything but the explosion rocketing from the base of her spine and throughout her body and she sees stars.

She's not sure how long she's in this state of suspended motion. Dimly, she hears Haruka cry out, can feel her twitching above her as she comes, but her heart is pounding and her fingers are tingling and it's much too hard for Michiru to even get in a deep breath, much less focus on the sight.

And then Haruka's rolling off of her. "Are you okay?" she asks, stroking the back of her hand across Michiru's face. It's such a tender gesture that it sends another crack through Michiru's demeanor, and Haruka just looks so anxious. She looks like Michiru is something that's actually worth protecting, and it's too much.

She breaks.

"I," Michiru starts, trying to force words out as she's struggling for breath. And then in between one of the gasps is this wrenching sob, that comes out like it's being dragged right out from those parts of her that she could've sworn she'd permanently locked away years ago.

She feels like a petulant little girl. She hates it when she gets this way, can't recall a time in her recent memory when she'd been at this point. She'd thought she was over this. Hell, at least for this point in her life, she'd thought she was over feelings in general.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she says, distinctly whiny, and she wants to beat the sound out of her voice but knows she can't and another agonizing sob bubbles up from her chest. She suppresses it the best she can, leaving a thick knot in her throat, but it's not enough to wipe the look of concern off of Haruka's stupid face.

"Wasn't supposed to be like what?" Haruka asks.

You weren't supposed to be like this, Michiru finishes in her head. Haruka wasn't supposed to be so damn good. She wasn't supposed to be able to cut right through all of Michiru's walls like they were absolutely nothing, almost like they were never there at all.

Michiru has never been who she needs to be around Haruka. Haruka's never seen it, never fallen for it.

And it doesn't matter who Haruka is or what they're doing. Michiru's not strong enough to pretend that this is a game, or anything simple. She's too far gone. She's fallen.

Michiru is terrified.

"Michiru…" Haruka reaches up, brushes a few strands of hair back from her forehead. It's taking everything Michiru has to not pull away from the touch, for Haruka's own good, if nothing else.

Instead, she chokes out a bitter laugh. "Why do you feel so much like my boyfriend right now?"

Haruka's response is quiet, but instantaneous: "I could be."

And Michiru can't deal with that at all. She hurts, and she's still on the verge of tears, and she shouldn't be having this, she shouldn't have any of this, and she can feel herself shutting down, giving up, giving in. "Just stop talking and hold me," she mumbles.

Haruka does.